


Scherzo Fantastique

by LocallyGrownAvocado



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Theatre, And Yuuri is a (very cute) choreographer, And everyone else is in the crew and having a dandy time, Basically everyone is putting on a ballet together, M/M, Victor is the stage manager, YOI Secret Santa 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocallyGrownAvocado/pseuds/LocallyGrownAvocado
Summary: In a world in which soulmates are bound by a certain song, Victor finds his while stage managing a ballet and subsequently manages to mess everything up.AKA a ballet-inspired soulmate au involving Firebird, backstage shenanigans, and the completely necessary cast group chat.





	1. The Firebird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dokihearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dokihearts/gifts).



> So this is my project for yoi secret santa 2018! Surprise!! 
> 
> The title comes from another Stravinsky piece, go look it up, it's worth it!
> 
> And Sorika- Happy holidays and I hope you like it!! <3

It was an extremely well-known fact among the theatre community that Victor Nikiforov was terrible at remembering things.

It was an even better-known fact Victor Nikiforov was a hoarder of post-it notes and brightly colored pens. His copy of the Pippin script was a mess of color-coded notes and slightly crooked tabs. Prop notes were blue, set notes were green, all the lighting cues were in bright pink, sound was purple. Every new scene was marked with a neon orange post-it tab. The script lived in a black binder, and the binder lived stapled to Victor’s hands.

By the time he was ready to leave for the theater, he’d gone over the notes at least twice. He’d read the post-its on his mirror at least four times, but that was excusable considering he was packing at the time and couldn’t risk forgetting anything majorly important.

He still forgot his shoes the first time he tried to walk out of his apartment.

On his way out the door the second time, his phone started to ring.

He’d had to drop two bags and the stage binder in order to find it in time, thankfully only two rolls of spike tape rolled out in the process.  

“Vitya,” a familiar voice said as he answered the phone. “I take it you’ve been well?”

Victor laughed a little. “It’s opening night, Yakov, if you called to catch up this really isn’t a great time.”

“What’s your show after Pippin?”

“Not sure,” Victor said, mentally running through a list of dates in his head. “I know community theatre wanted me to do Little Mermaid, but that’s still a way out. I don’t think I’m actively booked. Why?”

“I need a stage manager,” Yakov said. “For Firebird, in a couple months. It’ll be rushed, it came up last minute. But I’m putting together a crew and you’re the only one I really trust.”

“Is that ‘a couple’ as in four or ‘a couple’ as in literally two?”

Yakov just sighed.

“No offense, Yakov,” Victor said cautiously. “But why the hell would you try to put on a ballet in two months?”

“Lilia’s coming back into town, I want to do something for her.”

Victor didn’t have an argument for that. Sure, the ballet would probably be a train wreck. It would probably cost him a whole lot of post-it notes and even more coffee. But if it was for Lilia, if it was for love…

Victor knew he couldn’t stand in the way.

“Okay,” he said. “Who do you have so far?”

“Well, I’ve booked the Aria,” Yakov said. “Mila’s coming in to dance the Firebird, Gosha said he’d do Koschei. I have someone to dance Ivan- Yuri Plisetsky- I don’t think you’ve met him yet. He’s young, but he’s talented. Christophe said he’d do the costumes, Chulanont was more than willing to help with makeup. I have a choreographer, lighting, and I have a solid lead on someone for sound.”

Victor laughed a little. “Why do I feel like I’m the last to know?”

“Couldn’t risk you turning me down,” Yakov said.

“When have I ever-”

“Do you really want a list?”

“When have I ever turned _Lilia_ down?” Victor corrected, earning an exhausted sigh from Yakov.

“I’ll have to ask her in two months, I’m sure she’ll think of something. We start on Monday, by the way. Bring some stagehands with you, call some friends.”

“You’ve already called all my friends.”

“Call some reliable acquaintances,” Yakov said. “Noon, at the Aria.”

“I’ll be there,” Victor promised, starting to pick up his bags again. “But I get to be best man at the wedding.”

Yakov hung up.

Victor wasn’t even surprised.

 

* * *

 

On the bright side, working with community theatre meant decent budgets and fairly competent directors. On the not-so-bright side, it meant Victor had to work the stagehands community theatre gave him.

Usually, this went fairly well.

Pippin had proved to be the exception.

They’d given him three high school students, promising they had a solid lead on a fourth and possibly even a fifth. The fourth came through two weeks before opening, the mysterious fifth stagehand never showed.

And so Victor was left to wrangle four high school students, and he would’ve gained at least three hundred grey hairs from the experience had his hair not been naturally platinum. At least one of the stagehands had wanted to be there. One signed up because she needed some sort of community service in order to graduate with honors. The third stagehand was the costuming director’s son, and the fourth was just there to see his girlfriend strut around in tights.

By some sort divine theatre intervention, Victor made it through Pippin without completely losing his mind. Did that divine intervention come in the form of Chris and multiple bar runs?

Maybe.

But either way, Victor survived Pippin. He left the theatre in the wee hours of Monday morning after tear-down was finally finished and tried to get something at least vaguely resembling sleep.

When his alarm went off at ten thirty, he felt like he’d been hit by a giant, circus-shaped bus.

He reset the alarm for eleven and slept for another half hour.

It didn’t really help.

Come eleven, he showered as quickly as humanly possible, grabbed the first half-decent shirt he could find and made his way out the door. The drive the Aria took about twenty minutes, plus Victor’s stop at the Starbucks drive-thru. Thankfully, there hadn’t been too bad of a line.

He made it to the theater with seven minutes to spare.

Thankfully, someone had left the back door unlocked, and though Victor hadn’t worked at the Aria in at least a year, he still knew his way through the halls. He made it into the wings, coffee in hand, almost running into Mila as he walked through the darkness.

She hushed him dramatically, gesturing to the stage.

Over his thirty years of life, Victor had read quite a bit about soulmates. As a child, he’d pored over books, articles, blog posts from people he knew nothing about. He’d been fascinated by the concept, daydreaming for hours on end about the music that would eventually connect him to the person he was meant to be with.

He figured it would be at least a semi-popular song, probably something he’d hear on the radio one day. He figured it would probably be catchy, upbeat, the kind of song that would get stuck in his head for hours. It would be annoying, sure. But it would remind him that somewhere out in the big wide world, he had a soulmate, and that would almost make up for it.

For his parents, it had been Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

For his fifth grade teacher, it had been that one obnoxious Britney Spears song.

For his first boyfriend, it had been Culture Club.

Victor had listened to Culture Club for weeks before he realized it wasn’t going to happen.

They’d broken up within the week.

After all, everyone had a soulmate and Nick from Chemistry 101 just hadn’t been his.

It hadn’t been Cody from Starbucks either.

He’d dated Peter from the gym for almost a year before the inevitable breakup.

It was the same story every time. They’d date for a while, get close. They’d go on dates, take cute pictures, Peter had even moved in. But then he’d heard his song. He’d come back from work practically glowing, the track cued up on his phone.

“Listen,” he’d said.

And Victor had listened, trying to ignore the eager eyes of his boyfriend as they practically drilled into his soul.

He’d wanted so badly to feel it, and yet listening to the calm guitar strums of Peter’s song, he felt nothing.

He’d cried.

Peter had cried.

And in the end, Peter had moved on.

He got a wedding invite in the mail a few years later. Chris had been nice enough to go as his date, considering Victor had paid him in champagne. It had been a nice wedding- Peter’s mother had made an excellent cake. And Peter looked completely blissfully happy.

Victor had smiled, figuring someday he’d find his song and be happy, too.

He’d never thought he’d find it at the Aria.

“Who is that?” he whispered to Mila as he stared at the dancer on the stage.

The man was incredible- he moved perfectly in sync with the music, feet perfectly arched in his pointe shoes as he twirled across the stage. There was something about him- something about the music- that had managed to completely take Victor’s breath away.

“We think it’s Yuri Plisetsky,” Mila whispered back. “The ballerina Yakov brought in to dance Ivan? Though he’s dancing Firebird now…”

“He’s amazing,” he whispered.

Mila just nodded. “I know. He’s eighteen, some sort of prodigy if I’m remembering right. Lilia taught him when he was younger, so Yakov had a bit of a connection.”

“Eighteen?” Victor echoed numbly, heart falling rapidly in his chest.

“Crazy, right?”

Victor just nodded numbly.

Eighteen.

The dancer couldn't be his soulmate after all.

Maybe it would be someone else in the crew.

But Mila had said he was dancing to Firebird, and considering Mila was dancing the Firebird in the actual show...She was a wonderful human, but she definitely wasn’t his soulmate.

After a few moments, the song ended, and the dancer leaned down to pick up a pair of glasses left on the edge of the stage. He glanced at his phone briefly before his eyes caught on the wings of the stage.

“Oh my God,” he stammered. “How long have you all been here? I thought I was early.”

“You were,” Mila reassured as she walked out onto the stage. “We just didn’t want to interrupt. Yuri, right?”

The dancer nodded.

Somewhere in the building, a switch was flipped and the stage lights came on.

Once again, Victor just stared.

The dancer would have been gorgeous, had he not been eighteen- eighteen, dammit. His dark hair was sloppily pushed back, blue-rimmed glasses ready to fall off the edge of his nose. And he was wearing this paint-stained Julliard t-shirt.

Julliard.

He was going to _Julliard_.  

How the hell had Yakov found him?

“V,” Mila said. “Space much?”

“Sorry,” Victor apologized, walking out onto the stage. “You just looked a bit older than I’d expected, got distracted. I’m Victor, I’m here to stage manage.”

The dancer’s eyebrows rose as he shook Victor’s hand. “I’m just going to laugh and pretend not to be insulted by that.”

“Don’t be,” Victor said. “It was a compliment. I mean you might not appreciate it by the time you’re my age, but for now, at least you can probably drink easily.”

“ _Victor,_ ” Mila snapped. “Ignore him, he just got out of Pippin and he’s a mess. V, be a darling and get the crew out here for introductions?”

Victor got the crew.

It took him a minute, but everyone made it out onto the stage relatively efficiently. They didn’t even complain when he asked them to sit in a circle.

God, they were so much better than his high schoolers.

“Alright,” he said. “Yakov’s running a bit late, but we’re going to start introductions anyway. Most of you probably know Yakov, considering you’ve been dragged into this operation.”

The majority of the cast nodded, a few hummed their agreement.

“That said, most of you also know me, but some of you are new. My name is Victor Nikiforov, I’m a friend of Yakov’s and the stage manager for the show.”

He gestured to his left, allowing Mila to take her turn.

“Mila Babicheva,” she said cheerily. “Also a friend of Yakov’s, and a friend of Victor’s. So when he inevitably gives you shit…”

Victor rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, I’m here to dance the firebird.”

“Georgi Popovich, I’m here because Yakov promised me a prosthetic nose and an excuse to wear black makeup. I’m dancing Kostchei.”

“Chris Giacometti, resident costume designer, also an expert on all things Victor, yes he’s gay, yes he’s single, if you’re interested come find me after this and I’ll give you his number.”

“Chris,” Victor hissed. “He’s kidding, Mila, stop laughing. Who’s next?”

“I am,” the sound director said. “Otabek Altin, I do sound with Leo, who’s on his way. He’s dragging the lighting crew with him.”

“Who’s on lights?” Mila asked.

“Ji and Minami for sure,” Otabek said. “Maybe a few others.”

Mila nodded and the introductions continued.

“Hi, I’m Phichit Chulanont, I’m here to do makeup and-”

He paused as someone walked onto the stage. The newcomer looked like a high school junior going through his middle-school emo phase. His blonde hair was pulled up in a sloppy knot, huge black headphones hanging from his neck.

“What’d I miss?” he asked, Russian accent dripping off his voice.

Considering Yakov probably recruited him, Victor wasn’t surprised.

“Just introductions,” he said. “You want to say hello and find a seat?”

“Yuri Plisetsky,” the kid said. “Yakov asked me to come dance Ivan.”

Victor looked at Mila.

Mila looked at Chris.

Chris looked confused.

“Wait,” Victor said, looking towards the ballerina from earlier. “You?”

“Yuuri Katsuki?” the dancer said. “Choreography?”

“Well that won’t be confusing at all,” Chris muttered under his breath.

Victor was vaguely aware of the continuing conversation- Mila was saying something about nicknames and Yakov’s angsty prodigy wasn’t having it. But Victor was focussed on the choreographer, who was probably not eighteen and who was also probably his soulmate.

God, he’d told his soulmate he looked old.

_Old._

That would be a hard one to come back from.

Victor realized they’d started introductions again- one of the ballerinas was talking. She seemed nice. He had no idea what her name was, but she seemed nice.

“Who’s she dancing?” he whispered at Mila, who rolled her eyes.

“You mind repeating that again dear?” she asked the dancer. “V’s half asleep.”

The dancer just laughed. “Sara Crispino,” she said. “I’m here to dance Tsarevna.”

Victor nodded and gestured to the man sitting next to her.

“Mickey Crispino,” he said. “I’m here to support my sister.”

Victor almost interjected but didn’t get the chance.

“Emil Nekola,” the next man said. “I’m here to stop Mick from killing anyone.”

For a minute, there was confused silence.

“No, really, boys,” Mila said. “What do you _do_?”

“Mickey’s here to stop me from ending up with some ‘flexible ballerina boyfriend’,” Sara said, voice dripping with irritation. “And Emil’s here to distract him.”

“So they do nothing,” Mila said dryly.

“I do kickboxing in the mornings,” the scruffy one said.

Mila just sighed. “Look, if you aren’t planning on contributing…”

“They can be stagehands,” Victor said quickly. “I’ll take them.”

“What?” the angry one scoffed.

“I’ll let you stay if you work for it,” Victor clarified. “It won’t be too challenging, I’m sure you’ll manage. But if you sit here and stalk the dancers all day I’ll throw you out.”

The angry one looked confused for a minute, before turning to Mila. “He’s not the director, can he do that?”

Mila just shrugged. “Yakov’s not here, so V’s the closest thing to God in this department until he gets back. You can be stagehands or you can leave, boys.”

“That’s heresy,” the angry one hissed.

“Dude chill,” the scruffy one said. “It’ll be fine. We get to be, like, roadies. Theater roadies.”

At least Chris and the makeup guy thought it was funny.

Mila looked about ready to kill someone.

“Good luck,” she muttered to Victor. “Call me when you need to hide the bodies.”

Victor shrugged and scanned the rest of the cast. “That’s it for introductions, right? I want the tech crew backstage, Chris?”

“Costumes and makeup are talking in the lobby.”

“Dancers?” Victor asked, locking eyes with Yuuri from across the circles.

“Dancers in the basement studio.”

“Alright,” Victor continued. “Mila will be around to get everyone into a group chat, we’ll get rehearsal plans out that way in the future. The Aria wants us out of here by five tonight, but we’re back same time tomorrow. Questions?”

“Do theater roadies get cool t-shirts?”

Victor rolled his eyes. “And break,” he said. “Tech, I’ll be there in two seconds. Yuuri, can I have a second?”

“Of course,” the choreographer replied as Victor made his way across the stage.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” he said. “Mila had told me you were Plisetsky, I thought you were eighteen. You don’t look old.”

Yuuri chuckled a little. “I realized you had us confused right around the time Yurio walked in. It’s fine, Victor, don’t worry about it.”

For a second, Victor didn’t know how to respond. But once the idea hit him, the words were out of his mouth before he had the chance to fully process.

“Could I go out on a limb and ask you to get coffee with me sometime?”

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m sorry, it’s probably sudden, and I’m probably crazy. But watching you dance earlier, that song… I think you might be my soulmate.”

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. Victor could swear his heart stopped beating. Yuuri’s eyes were on his, though his expression was impossible to read.

Eventually, the choreographer just sighed.

“Look, Victor,” he said. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s a great idea. Whatever you expect from me, I’m not- I just- I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Before he could fully process what had happened, Yuuri was walking away. He was walking away, not looking back, leaving Victor to stare slack-jawed from his spot on the stage.

He didn’t believe in soulmates.

How could he not believe in soulmates? 

 

* * *

 

 **You:** Welcome to the official firebird group chat, play nice and keep it clean

 **Stage Vodka Aunt:** Why do I feel like that was directed at me?

 **You:** Because it was.

 **Stage Mom:** Anyways congrats on a great rehearsal, stage crew we’re building a tree tomorrow so come prepared.

 **I do kickboxing (Eric?):** Ok so how exactly does one prepare to build a tree?

 **Stage Mom:** Just wear clothes you’re not too attached to. Paint and paper mache will be involved.

 **Cute Yuuri Choreo:** I want all dancers right away at noon for a few minutes, then we’ll split. Dance ensemble for two hours, then leads

 **Yakov’s angry prima:** The fuck am I supposed to do for two hours?

 **Stage Vodka Aunt:** Awww, V, it wasn’t even me this time

 **Stage Vodka Aunt:** To answer your question though you’ll be with me getting measurements done

 **Stage Vodka Aunt:** Same with the rest of dance cast

 **Becky with the good hair:** My crew, we’re in the booth calibrating

 **You:** That’s pretty much everyone right? V, is Yakov showing?

 **Stage Mom:** I believe so

 **I do kickboxing (Eric?):** At noon, right?

 **You:** Yep!

 **I do kickboxing (Eric?):** Cool beans I’ll be there

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small helpful note- the group chat is on Mila's phone, thus, Mila is "You". And Mila named all the contacts. ;)
> 
> There are more chapters coming- with holidays and traveling and such, I'm hoping to have the next one in about two weeks, see you then!!


	2. The Lights

**Stage Mom:** On my way to Starbucks, place all orders now

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Please cher do you even have to ask?

**Stage Mom:** Chris I swear to God

**Stage Mom:** I will buy you an iced tea

**Stage Mom:** Unsweetened

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Hungover much V?

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Caramel Frap and take an aspirin before you get here

**Cute new ballerina!!:** Iced PSL?

**Owes you twenty bucks:** Strawberry Frap

**You:** No caffeine Gosha?

**Owes you twenty bucks:** I’M DETOXING

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Well between you and V this rehearsal is going to be lovely

**You:** Put me down for a salted caramel mocha

**Becky with the good hair:** Doubleshot on ice

**Peaches:** Strawberry Acai Refresher here

**Peaches:** Also Yuuri drinks black iced tea you’re welcome

 

* * *

 

When Victor got to the Aria, Chris was already waiting for him. The man was perched outside the back door, a dangerously mischievous smile on his face as he blocked the entrance to the theatre. Victor sighed and handed him his coffee. 

“I don’t suppose you’re planning on letting me into the building?”

Chris just shook his head. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Are we having a short conversation or a long one?”

“That, cher, depends on how cooperative you’re feeling this lovely morning.”

Victor sighed and set down his bag. “Alright, I’ll bite. What did I do.”

“What  _ didn’t _ you do?”

“Chris, I have hot coffee and I’d like it to stay that way.”

Chris just sighed dramatically. “Oh, V, darling, we both know the only drink that matters in that carrier is on ice. And it’s black tea.”

Victor didn’t even have to think about it. 

It was the only tea order, after all.

And it belonged to a certain choreographer who was both incredibly attractive and also probably his soulmate.  

“Victor,” Chris continued. “I’ve seen you through almost every breakup of your dating career. Hell, you invited me to your ex’s wedding. And I went, because I assumed we were friends.”

“We are friends?”

Chris took a slow drink of coffee before responding. 

“Apparently you had quite the revelation yesterday,” he said. “Now, I don’t necessarily have a problem with that, he’s pretty, you could certainly do worse. However, I’m wondering when you were planning on telling me.”

“It’s been less than a day, Chris. If anything, I think I should be wondering how you found out.”

“The theatre has ears.”

Victor just raised his eyebrows. 

“Your cute choreographer is friends with the makeup artist. He told Chulanont, Chulanont started asking me about you, I started asking back.”

“What did he tell you?” Victor asked, knowing full well that Chris could probably weasel any information he wanted out of Phichit Chulanont. “And what did you tell him?”

“You know, V, this might be a new record. It took you, what, two minutes to scare him off? That’s better than the first time you met Peter.”

Victor just sighed. “Mila’s going to bitch at you when her coffee’s cold.”

Chris rolled his eyes and stepped aside. “Seriously though, V,” he said. “Be careful. He’s not Peter. Take it slow, be smart about it. If he’s really your soulmate, you don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” Victor said as he picked up his bag. “Any other pearls of wisdom for me?”

“Chulanont and I are on your side,” he said. “If that counts for anything.”

Victor just sighed and walked into the theater. According to his phone, he still had five minutes till noon. He set his bag in the workroom, which was still dark and empty. Part of him hoped the boys from yesterday showed up, and yet part of him hoped it stayed empty. 

He set his coffee on a barstool and made his way out onto the stage. Otabek was there with Leo and a few others. Victor handed him a coffee cup and made his way downstairs to the dance studios. 

He found Mila warming up along with the pumpkin spice ballerina. 

“If it’s cold, blame Chris,” he said. “Also have you seen Gosha?”

Mila shrugged. “He’s here, don’t know where though. Just walk down the halls talking about Anya, he’ll find you.”

Victor laughed. “Yeah, and then I’ll have to listen to him for three hours. I think I’ll pass.”

“Best of luck then, V,” she said. “And best of luck upstairs, I hope those stagehands pull through for you.”

“If the angry one wanders down here, you have my full permission to beat him up.”

“Mine too, for that matter,” pumpkin spice ballerina- Sara, maybe- said. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Mila said with a more-than-slightly mischievous smirk.

Victor laughed a little as he walked out of the studio and back into the hallway. His last show at the Aria had been Fiddler on the Roof and the place seemed oddly empty without the cast and chaos.

He slowly made his way towards the main dance studio where he found Georgi and Yuuri, along with the makeup designer and a few other dancers. 

“It’s Lilia Baranovskaya,” Yuuri was saying. “Minako would kill me.”

The makeup artist just sighed. “Minako loves you and will continue to love you whether or not Lilia Baranovskaya dances on your grave.”

“In my experience,” Victor said as he entered the room. “Lilia isn’t much of a grave dancer and she’s much less intimidating in person. You’ll be fine.”

For a second, Yuuri just stared at him in a mixture of confusion and shock. 

“Oh hey,” the makeup artist said with a little too much enthusiasm. “Is that my drink? Oh my God, thank you.”

Victor handed him the refresher and gave the tea to Yuuri, who muttered a brief thank you in reply. Georgi’s pink coffee-less concoction was the last item in the drink tray, and the dancer was quick to pick it up. 

“Bless you, Vitya,” he said. “You even made them spell my name right,”

Victor just laughed. “Of course, Gosha.”

“Is ‘Georgi’ really that hard?” one of the other dancers whispered.

“Yes,” Georgi insisted. “It’s a never-ending struggle.”

Victor just sighed. “If we’re getting into that monologue, it’s my cue to leave. Best of luck, dance crew.”

“Thanks again for the drinks!” the makeup artist called as Victor walked out the door. 

He smiled to himself as he made his way back upstairs, throwing the empty coffee tray away on his way to the workroom. By the time he got there, it was three after twelve, and the workroom had acquired two additional bodies. 

The scruffy stagehand was standing by a power saw, monster energy drink in one hand and cell phone in the other. The angry one just sat aggressively on a barstool. 

“Hey, it’s manager guy!” the scruffy one said as he looked up. “Forgot your name though, sorry. Like I want to say Nick but you don’t look like a Nick. You look like a Charles?”

The stage manager chuckled a little. “Victor,” he said. “Though my last name’s Nikiforov, that might’ve been where you got the Nick?”

“Oh,” the scruffy one said. “You’d make a good Charles. I’m Emil, by the way.”

“Mickey,” the angry one practically growled.

“Alright then,” Victor said, taking a much-needed drink of coffee. “Welcome to the stage team.”

They spend the next twenty minutes talking through the schedule- when the show dates were, when tech week was, when they had to have the main set pieces ready. He explained Otabek’s job, Guang’s job, and how everything would eventually intertwine together.

“Once I get Yakov to agree with me,” he said. “We’ll all be on headsets. And that will make communication much easier.”

“Dude, so we’re like… secret agents?”

“Emil, shut  _ up _ .”

“You have to admit it’s cool, Mick.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes.

“Anyways,” Victor said, taking another drink of coffee. “We have to make a tree and a ramp, probably some foliage. I’m still thinking a few things through for the ramp. But the tree will be pretty simple. We’ll make a chicken wire frame, paper mache it. I’m thinking we dump some serious glitter on it so it’ll sparkle when the light hits it.”

“Does it need to sparkle?” Mickey asked. “Because I don’t want glitter in my hair for three weeks.”

Victor glared. “It’s Firebird. Fire is shiny. Fire lights up. You’ll deal with it.”

“Maybe I’m a dipshit,” Emil said hesitantly. “I don’t really know much about theatre. But what if we just… made it light up?”

“Go on,” Victor said tentatively.

“Like with little lights? We could dilute them with fabric or paper or something so they’re not like glaring. But we could get the type that phase in and phase out, mess with different colors.”

For a second, Victor thought. It was an interesting idea- different, but interesting. If they could apply it to the rest of the set…

“And if you get like red and orange tissue paper, hit it with light and a fan… it makes pretty real-looking flames. We could light the tree on fire.”

Victor choked.

“Dude, it’s the Firebird. Go big or go home.”

“I’ll ask Yakov,” Victor said. “But I’m not optimistic. The lights in general though… could we expand it to the rest of the set? Make light a sort of recurring theme?”

“Glow in the dark paint?” Mickey suggested.

Victor shook his head. “We have to be able to turn it off- the whole stage has to go black during transitions.”

“Blacklight activated paint?”

“That could be interesting on the foliage.”

“Like James Cameron’s Avatar?”

“Excuse me?”

Emil scoffed. “Dude, have you never seen Avatar? With the blue alien people? I mean it wasn’t that good but it’s like… iconic.”

“I’ll google it later. But small black lights could work.”

“We could, like, hang lights from the ceiling and make stars!”

Victor chuckled a little. “That might be a tad ambitious. But I’ll think about it. And I’ll ask Yakov.”

“Ok, who  _ is _ Yakov, though?” Mickey asked. 

“The director,” Victor clarified. “You know, we should find him. We’re taking a field trip to the stage.”

 

* * *

 

**Stage Mom:** Whoever has Yakov, I want him on the stage

**Stage Mom:** Also I want Guang

**Sunshine Bean:** On my way

**Sunshine Bean:** Bringing Mini

**Owes you twenty bucks:** We have Yakov in dance

**Owes you twenty bucks:** He says you can wait

**Stage Mom:** Thanks Gosha

**Stage Mom:** I’ll just wait here, talking to Guang

**Stage Mom:** Winning him over

**Stage Mom:** Corrupting him

**Owes you twenty bucks:** Yakov says he’s on his way

**Sunshine Bean:** ...I feel used

 

* * *

 

“What is this, Vitya?” Yakov asked gruffly as he walked onto the stage. “And congratulations on finding the stagehands, did I not say you had friends?”

“Oh I met them yesterday,” Victor said with a smile. “And I think one of them hates me. But the  _ other  _ one just had a great idea for the stage.”

Yakov just raised his eyebrows skeptically.

“Let’s make it light up.”

For a minute, there was quiet.

“It… will light up,” Guang eventually said. “That’s what the lights are for?”

“No no, light up the actual set pieces. Put little lights in the tree to make it sparkle, paint the foliage so it glows under black lights.”

“The Aria actually has full stage blacklights,” Guang said. “We turn them on for the scenes with Kostchei’s monsters. And if we could get Phichit to use fluorescent makeup on the monsters…”

“Chris could make their costumes glow, too.”

“It could be electric,” Minami said.

“Modern,” Guang added.

“Lilia would love it,” Victor said with a wink, knowing full well that he’d won.

For a minute, Yakov looked at him. He had a handful of specific “Vitya Expressions,” as Georgi called them. This was one such expression. It was the slightly curious, more concerned face usually reserved for Victor’s stranger ideas and suggestions.

It was not a yes.

But it was also not a no.

It was hesitant permission to try. 

And the firm reassurance that if things were to go wrong, he would not be amused.

“Don’t light the Aria on fire, Vitya,” Yakov said before turning and walking away.

“Was that a yes?” Emil asked hesitantly once he was out of sight.

Victor nodded. “Guang, I’ll get concrete concepts to you as soon as I have them.”

“Sounds good. Any lights you have on the stage- small blacklights, stuff in the tree, etcetera… that has to be controlled by your crew. It’ll be easier than running it up to the booth.”

“We can make that work,” Victor confirmed. “And I’ll talk to Chris this afternoon.”

“Perfect,” Guang said with a smile. “It’ll be great.”

Victor nodded and started to turn back towards backstage.

“Mr. Nikiforov?” Minami said hesitantly, causing Victor to pivot abruptly.

“Victor.”

“Mr. Victor Nikiforov, sir?”

Victor shook his head, Guang trying not to laugh.

“Mr. Victor?”

“Just Victor is fine, Mini, don’t hurt yourself.”

For a second, Minami was quiet, fidgeting with his hands. 

“Well, um… Victor,” he eventually said. “Does this mean you have your inspiration back?”

Victor thought for a moment, allowing himself to picture the stage in his mind, to see the dancers on it, hear the orchestra playing in the pit, imagine Lilia’s face smiling in the audience.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think it does.”

 

* * *

 

**You:** Rehearsal plans for tomorrow go

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Costuming is sewing in the basement

**Cute Yuuri Choreo:** Same structure as yesterday for dance

**Stage Mom:** Stage Squad is taking a field trip to Home Depot

**Angry Roadie (Mitchell?):** Do I have to come?

**You:** Well you’re not skipping to stalk the dancers

**Becky with the good hair:** Sound will be out- we’re meeting with the orchestra

**Sunshine Bean:** Hey V can Mini and I join the Home Depot field trip?

**Sunshine Bean:** For moral support and also I need a couple replacement bulbs

**Stage Mom:** Yeah, of course, we’re meeting there at noon

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Wait if V’s ditching, who’s getting coffee??

**Becky with the good hair:** You are

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Huh

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Lucky me

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Pay me five bucks extra and I’ll spike your order

**You:** No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next round: Home Depot field trips!
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys, sorry it's a little late! Next chapter should be in about two weeks, give or take. :) You can always come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://locallygrownavocado.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LocalAvocado) because that's a thing! Thanks again guys, you're the best!!


	3. Home Depot

By the time Victor made it to Home Depot, Emil was already there. Well, Mickey was technically there too, but he was staring at his phone looking angry. Emil, on the other hand, looked like he’d had at least seven cups of coffee and maybe an energy drink.

“Dude!” he proclaimed the minute he saw Victor walk into the store. “So I was thinking last night and I drew out some pictures and like… look.”

He thrust a sketchbook into Victor’s hands and flipped to one of the pages in the middle. He’d drawn out a tree, colored half-heartedly with what appeared to be a highlighter. He’d sketched out diagrams of the leaves, complete with little lights tucked into the clusters. He had notes written out around the page, too, but the handwriting was too smudged to read. After a few minutes, he flipped the page to reveal drawings of plants and blacklights. 

“I only had one highlighter,” Emil said. “So just pretend all the yellow is really blue. Or purple. Or whatever combination we make it.”

Victor chuckled a little. “Kid, you’re practically doing my job for me.”

For a second, panic flashed through Emil’s eyes. “Sorry if I overstepped, I was just thinking about and I might’ve been a little high, I can back off-”

“No,” Victor interrupted. “This is a great start. I’m impressed. Keep this up, and I’ll hire you for community theater next season.”

Emil just laughed. “Honestly I’d settle for a recommendation letter on my college app.”

“Right,” Victor replied. “Because I’m definitely qualified.”

“Dude,” Emil said seriously. “I googled you.”

 

* * *

 

**You:** Hey Home Depot Squad if you find any cute lesbians you should bring me one

**Sunshine Bean:** No lesbians yet, but Victor’s here

**Sunshine Bean:** Does he count?

**Peaches:** OOOF

**Stage Mom:** Guang the BETRAYAL

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Congrats kid I didn’t think you had it in you

**You:** No offense but I could never date V

**You:** Even if I were attracted to men

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** That’s a shame, darling

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** He really is excellent in bed

**Owes you twenty bucks:** Definitely did not want to know

**Yakov’s angry prima:** What the fuck did I just read

**You:** Oh my God Chris no

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** In my defense I figured you all knew

**Yakov’s angry prima:** HOW THE FUCK WOULD WE KNOW

**I do kickboxing (Eric?):** I definitely didn’t know

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** I mean look at him how could he not be?

**I do kickboxing (Eric?):** But I mean I’m not surprised?

**You:** Chris I will kick you out of this group chat

**Owes you twenty bucks:** Also Yakov says stop distracting the dance team

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Mila love, you wouldn’t

**Becky with the good hair:** If she wouldn’t, I definitely would

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** Rebecca I thought we were friends

**Stage Mom:** I LOOK AT CHRISTMAS LIGHTS FOR FIVE MINUTES

 

* * *

 

Georgi was sitting against the dance studio wall with Yura when the chat started to light up. Technically, he’d been observing the dance ensemble, but the small dancer’s commentary had much more entertaining. 

“What the fuck,” he’d whispered angrily. “What the actual fuck.”

“That’s just Chris, Yura,” Georgi replied. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I shouldn’t fucking have to, the asshat.”

Georgi smiled fondly. Technically, he’d only known the dancer for a couple days. But they’d bonded over cat stories and eyeliner brands and Georgi liked to think Yura didn’t hate him quite as much as the others. 

“God, who’d even sleep with him anyway?” Yura practically growled. “He’s tall and lanky and fucking  _ old _ .”

“Thirty’s not old,” Georgi said. “ _ I’m  _ thirty. I’m not old, am I?”

“You’re like… cool old,” Yura clarified. “He’s like pink-motorcycle-midlife-crisis old.”

Georgi laughed a little and made a mental note to pass that phrase on to Vitya later. He’d appreciate it if he was in a good mood. 

“He’s pretty toned though,” Georgi continued. “Like… not as much of a twig as you’d think. He has pretty decent biceps from moving so much set.”

A look of horror spread over Yura’s face. “Oh my God don’t tell me you’re sleeping with him too.”

Georgi just laughed. “No no, don’t worry. I’ve just done my fair share of shows with him. And I’ve seen him painting without a shirt on. For what it’s worth, I don’t think Chris is sleeping with him either. Vitya isn’t really the type. He’s too much of a romantic.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Yura practically growled.

The bitterness practically slapped Georgi in the face. He literally sounded like Vitya murdered his puppy. Which was ridiculous, because Yura didn’t own a puppy. And Vitya definitely could never murder one. Not to mention...

“Didn’t you just meet him?”

Yura did not look amused. “I mean officially yeah. But I trained under Lilia Baranovskaya, remember?”

Georgi admittedly knew next to nothing about Madame Baranovskaya. He knew she lived in Moscow, trained ballerinas, and that she was the reason they were putting on Firebird.

As for a connection to Vitya, Georgi had no idea.

“Lila who still talks to Yakov on a regular basis,” Yura clarified.

Georgi just stared at him.

Yura sighed dramatically.

“Yakov called us when everything went down, he wasn’t happy. Lilia wasn’t happy. Like  _ really  _ not happy. She almost flew to New York but settled for three hours of arguments over the phone. There was a lot of yelling. It was a fucking nightmare.”

For a minute, Georgi debated how to reply. Technically, ‘everything going down’ could’ve been anything. It could’ve been Vitya leaving Russia, Vitya cutting his hair off, Vitya painting his nails bright blue in the middle of the night while drunk on vodka and poor life decisions.

But Georgi had a feeling that it was much more serious than the drunk nail-painting adventure. And if Georgi was right, there was probably much more to that story than what Yura had heard.

“You do know why he did it, right?” 

Yura rolled his eyes. “I know he did it for some boy. Which is fine, of course. I mean, it’s not like Lilia wasted a fuckton of connections on him. It’s not like Yakov was bending over backward all the fucking time. It’s not like he had prospects and a career and literally everything laid out for him. It’s not like it ever mattered. I mean why actually be successful when you can be chasing ass?”

Georgi opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat. 

“He… he wasn’t chasing ass, Yura,” he eventually managed to stammer.

“Whatever,” the teen muttered angrily. 

Georgi didn’t get the chance to reply. Yuuri sent the dance ensemble on a five minute break, and Yura disappeared to refill his water bottle. Georgi turned his attention to the choreographer.

He’d known the mysterious Yuuri Katsuki for as long as he’d known Yura- they’d met on Firebird day one. Yuuri, however, was not as simple as Yura. Yura was very aware that he’d just plie’d straight out of the Lilia Baranovskaya School of Perfect. Yuuri, on the other hand, had walked into the Aria in a Juilliard t-shirt and still seemed to question every step he took.

It was obvious he knew what he was doing. They hadn’t been working long, but the ideas Yuuri had shared were nothing short of brilliant. There was a reason Yakov brought him on. The whole cast could see it. And yet Yuuri still stood awkwardly at the front of the studio, scrolling through his phone, face rapidly redding. 

Ah, Chris’s messages. 

Georgi chuckled to himself and walked over. 

“So that group chat, huh?” he said casually. 

Yuuri laughed nervously and slid his phone into the waistband of his leggings. “I was not prepared.”

“Nobody ever is,” Georgi said. “I think at this point, Chris takes it as a challenge.”

“So you’re telling me I should get used to it.”

Georgi laughed. “I mean, it won’t always be about Vitya’s sex life, but yeah. It’ll happen again.”

He hadn’t realized just how obvious Yuuri’s blush was until he was staring it right in the face. 

It was actually quite adorable.

“You know,” Georgi said hesitantly. “Vitya’s not sleeping with Chris. He’s pretty single.”

Yuuri looked like he choked on a frog. “ _ What? _ I don’t-”

“Honey, you’re redder than Mila’s lipstick.”

“Sunburn.”

“It’s November,” Georgi countered. “Look, Vitya’s a great guy. He’s kind of a dork, but he’s fun. And he’d treat you right. You should ask him out. I’m pretty sure he’d say yes.”

Yuuri shook his head. “That’s definitely not the problem.”

Georgi looked at him quizzically.

“He…” Yuuri took a deep breath. “He asked me out. The other day.”

The words hit Georgi like a freight train. 

“Are you serious? You’re going out with him? That’s great, oh my God, why didn’t you say so?”

Once again, Yuuri shook his head. “I said no,” he said quietly, refusing to look Georgi in the eye.

He could literally feel his heart hit the floor. It shattered. And if  _ his  _ heart was shattering, Vitya’s had to be demolished. Like dropped-off-the-empire-state-building demolished. 

“No offense,” Georgi said. “But  _ why _ ?”

“He wants something I can’t give him.”

Georgi scoffed. “Look, Yuuri. I’ve known Vitya for years. He’s not a player. He’s not going after you to get into your pants, that’s so far from his style you have no idea-”

“I have to start rehearsal again,” Yuuri interrupted. “I- sorry. We’re doing the princesses, I have to find Sara.”

And just like that, Georgi was watching the choreographer walk out of the studio, still trying to process everything he’d just heard. 

Vitya never asked people out.

He crushed on people, sure. In fact, he was quite good at lusting from afar. 

But he  _ never _ made the first move. 

Because at the heart of the matter, Vitya was a hopeless romantic, still waiting for his soulmate to sweep him off his feet. Vitya  _ deserved _ to be swept off his feet. He deserved a love story worthy of epic poetry and Taylor Swift songs. And if Yuuri could just open his eyes and see that, see beyond Chris’s comments, beyond Yura’s irritation, beyond everything Vitya’s reputation painted him to be…

Yuuri had to see it.

Maybe he didn’t see it yet, but he would. 

Georgi just might have had to show it to him.

 

* * *

 

There was no such thing as an uneventful Home Depot trip, Victor really should’ve known better.  It had started smoothly, it really had. But then the texts had started. At least Emil had found it funny. Victor had called Chris and yelled at him for at least five minutes in the lighting aisle. 

Chris hadn’t been fazed, and the trip had only gone downhill from there.

Mickey had almost fought the paint mixer. Emil had tripped over a piece of stray plywood and would probably end up with a forehead bruise tomorrow. Guang had also lost Minami at one point and it had taken at least half an hour to find him. 

God, Victor hated Home Depot. 

Eventually, he made it back to the Aria and got everything unloaded. With help from Emil and Mickey, he’d gotten everything somewhat organized and set into orderly piles. Victor had left to check in with Yakov, leaving his makeshift stage crew to start on the chicken wire. 

He ran into Mila before he ran into Yakov.

“No cute lesbians, I take it?” she said with a smirk.

“Don’t get me started,” Victor replied. “Have you seen Yakov?”

“Studio D, with Yurio,” Mila said. “Approach with caution.”

Victor nodded.

He could hear the yelling from Studio A. 

“I’m not wearing anything with sequins on it you tasteless fuck,” Yurio was yelling. “Or glitter, for that matter, what the hell is this even supposed to be?”

“ _ Light _ , cher,” Chris mused. “It's all about the lights. You have to be reflective.”

“Yeah well clearly you need to reflect on how shitty your sketches look because this is a fucking disgrace and Lilia won’t have it.”

“On the contrary,” Victor said as he walked in. “I think Lilia would love it if it supported the artistic vision of the project. Which it most certainly would.”

“Nobody asked you, jackass,” Yurio practically growled. 

“Thank you V, darling, I knew you’d agree.”

“Oh no,” Victor corrected. “I’m not talking to you yet. I’m just here to give my receipt to Yakov and leaving.”

“Your begrudging approval is enough, love.”

“Oh fuck right off,” Yurio snapped.

Victor handed his Home Depot Receipt to Yakov, whispered a soft Russian ‘good luck’, and went on his way. 

He made it about halfway up the stairs before running into none other than Phichit Chulanont.

“Chris is in Studio D,” he said. “Though he’s fighting Yurio so avoidance might be your best bet at the moment.”

Phichit chuckled. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind. How was Home Depot?”

Victor shrugged. “Could’ve gone better, could’ve gone worse, I suppose. Though next time, I’m taking Chris’s phone with me.”

Phichit laughed. “Good luck, the thing is like stapled to his hand.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” Victor said. “But I’ve known him for a while now, I have my methods.”

“I take it you have quite the history,” Phichit replied innocently. 

Victor had a feeling it was far from an innocent question. Phichit had read the group chat, he’d probably been with Chris when he sent the messages. Phichit knew what had been said. And considering Phichit was so close to Yuuri…

Victor shook his head. “We’ve been friends for a while,” he said. “But no, we’re not romantically involved.”

Phichit nodded. “Good,” he said. “Yuuri will be glad.”

“Yuuri doesn’t like me.”

Phichit frowned. “Yuuri didn’t like your approach. Which wasn’t great, to be honest, if I were him I would’ve shot you down too.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I’m serious,” Phichit insisted. “He doesn’t hate you, you just threw him off guard. Just try again. And this time, leave soulmates completely out of it. You might have better luck.”

And just like that, Phichit Chulanont was walking away and Victor was standing speechless on the stairs. 

He had a chance.

It might be a small chance. 

But Phichit had said the words, and Victor definitely had a chance.

 

* * *

 

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** My dance darlings, we’re taking measurements tomorrow

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** So please no baggy tiger sweatshirts <3

**Yakov’s angry prima:** How are you still in this group chat??

**Yakov’s angry prima:** Wasn’t Mila going to kick you out??????

**You:** I thought Otabek was doing it

**Becky with the good hair:** Don’t make me do your dirty work

**Yakov’s angry prima:** Seriously??

**Stage Vodka Aunt:** What can I say, they love me

**Yakov’s angry prima:** I swear to god I will kill you all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while hasn't it? Sorry guys, I started a new semester and had to move back to campus and all, it's been a little crazy. That said, it'll probably stay crazy for a bit. So while I'd love to say the next chapter will be up in two weeks, I make no promises. It might be three. I'm doing my best. 
> 
> Thanks so much for your support though, I'm so glad you guys are reading and liking this story!! You really are all the best. <3


End file.
